


Tender

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blowjobs, Bottom Dean, Docking, Established Relationship, Foreskin Play, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Lap Sex, M/M, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Sibling Incest, Top Sam, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:12:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's psychic headaches no longer hold visions to go with them, but that doesn't mean they don't hurt. Dean finds a way to make Sam feel better when they happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DickBaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/gifts).



> Alas, the idea is not mine - that belongs to Alicia, who gave me permission to use her idea as a basis for a fic. Funny how a twenty word drabble turned into this great beast - talk about a speck of dust starting an avalanche, am I right? ANYWAY this is for Janis, who's the loveliest perv I've ever met. She also calls me "boy" and that... that pleases me.

            Sam had had migraines before, and they were close enough to torture.

            Whatever he was contending with right now, however, was a hundred times worse, and at the moment death would have been a far too sweet release.

            Really his only consolation was that the sun was setting behind them, far better than an hour ago when they’d been driving directly into it, the brilliant yellow-orange rays making him too hot, in spite of the fact that he was only wearing a t-shirt, his plaid long since discarded.  The flat plains of Oklahoma rolled by in a ninety mile per hour blur, Dean keeping a steady pace to try and beat whatever imaginary traffic there was – they had managed to find one of those parts of the country that just didn’t seem to have much life in it at all, big stretches of road that for half an hour at a time they were the only car on.  Of course, the faster that Dean drove the louder the engine roared, the eight cylinders that Dean kept in near perfect running order serving to compound Sam’s discomfort ten times over – any other time it would have been reduced to the background as it had been for all of his life, much like Dean’s constant need to match volume with David Lee Roth’s voice – why was it always Van Halen he listened to when Sam felt like his body was doing its absolute best to end him?  
            He’d been able to ignore it for a while, thinking it was just one of those rare days when being in the car simply made him feel sick.  Then again, he had fought off Dean’s attempts to feel him up earlier, something he normally gladly participated in – Dean seemed like he had four hands whenever he got like that, two on the wheel and two on Sam’s body, getting him all worked up until they had to pull over.  Today, however, he’d simply shrugged Dean off, sure he’d caused Dean no small amount of worry, especially since his brother tended to gauge how well Sam was doing by how he responded to his sexual advances.  Then again, the completely and utterly overwhelming pounding in his head was acting as an incredibly effective libido blocker – Sam was pretty sure that if he had an erection right now it might kill him; it was almost worth considering seriously, especially if it would put an end to how miserable he felt.

            With a groan, Sam leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, eyes screwed shut as he tried to seek relief in the darkness created by his palms over his eyes – it was nowhere near as effective as he had hoped, and leaning forward simply shifted the pain to the back of his head, taunting him like some sort of monster doing a tap dance on his skull, dancing in time with “Panama” and making Sam actively hate 1980s heavy metal all the more – why couldn’t Dean pick something less…  pounding? 

            Dean looked over at Sam and the way that he was hunched over in the seat, turning the radio down to a less bone-jarring volume and dividing his attention between the road and his brother.

            “Y’okay Sammy?”  Dean’s voice was slightly sandpapery from belting out tunes that Sam had spent the last forty five minutes wishing had never been written.

            “Nnnnnnnnnnng.”  It was the best response Sam could manage, the sound of his own voice making his stomach twist in compliance with the pain in his head.

            Dean turned the radio down a little more. “Carsick?”

            Sam turned his head slightly, just enough to where Dean could see half of one hazel-brown eye.  “Head.”

            A lewd look formed on Dean’s face for half a moment before he realized Sam wasn’t talking about a blowjob. “Think there’s Tylenol in the glove compartment.”

            Sam thought about the six he’d taken earlier with the greasy hamburger he was currently trying to convince to not make a reappearance on the floorboards.  “Already took some.”

            Dean was about to say something when the front left wheel caught the only pothole in Oklahoma and that was it – the car jolted violently, and with it Sam felt his stomach lurch into his chest and he heaved, Dean immediately pulling over and in a lightning fast move got Sam’s door open, Sam leaning out and the contents of his stomach making themselves known to the outside world again, Sam feeling himself blacking out as his abdomen clenched hard over and over again, tears forming at the corners of his eyes because he _hurt_ so badly, his head and body a tumult that was very quickly defeating him.  Dean appeared right in front of him, easing him further out of the car and into the grass, helping Sam get down further so that he wouldn’t face plant in his own vomit, hands solid and steady on Sam’s shoulders and back, rubbing him in an attempt to comfort – Sam would have said thank you had it not been for the fact that he was currently trying to stay conscious.

            “That’s it, next town coming up and we’re staying put for the night.  Think you need to go to the hospital Sammy?”

            Not even Sam was sure of what answer he gave, the world fading to black as his eyes slid closed and somewhere deep in his mind hoped that he didn’t hit the ground face first.

.  .  .

            When Sam’s eyes opened again, it was to surroundings so dim that he may as well have left them closed – which upon his eyelids moving sounded like a good idea, giving the still pounding ache of his head.  He noticed he was lying down, too.  Not in grass, but in what was most definitely a bed, and from the feel of it a very soft one at that. 

            Deciding that he would feel no worse if he sat up some, he managed to get himself onto his back and up on his elbows, one eye closed again and the other looking around – he could just make out a nightstand to his left and the vaguest sliver of light indicating a door, shining up from the floor.  Turning his head more he spotted a window, or at the very least the last rays of sunshine filtering down from under tightly drawn curtains.  There was also the rattle of an air-conditioning unit from somewhere in the room, not loud enough to be intrusive but just enough to where it made its presence known, which led Sam to notice that it was very cool in the room, as opposed to the stickiness outside – Oklahoma was supposed to be a dry state, wasn’t it?

            Sam decided to go to the bathroom to make sure all of his parts were still attached, given that it felt like he was coming apart.  Upon inspecting himself in the mirror he noticed his eyes were bloodshot and he needed to shave – he simply hadn’t had time the last couple days and he looked as bad as he felt – which was very.  Then again, he probably couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to shave at this point anyway, given that it was a mighty effort to have kept them open this long.

            Returning to the bed and laying down across it, he thought about why his head hurt so much.  He couldn’t think of anything terribly headache inducing that had happened over the last few days, aside from Dean’s antics – and that was something that didn’t cause discomfort like this, no matter how hard Dean tried.  He thought it might be a migraine, but even then that wasn’t likely, considering the only thing that brought those on were exams, and it had been months now since he’d taken one of those, Stanford more a blur now than feeling like he was going to return any day.

            Of course, there had been the visions.

            That…. That was the most likely answer.

            It had been a while since he’d had one, but the pain in his skull was awfully close to the kind he felt when he had them, the psychic headaches that went just as soon as they came – how he wasn’t having the visions along with this protracted torment was a question he wasn’t going to pose to himself, considering that worry over some random stranger would only compound his hurt.  With a groan Sam managed to shift himself back under the covers, his jeans catching on them and making them bunch in such a way that he really didn’t want to adjust them – it would be far more effort than he was willing to expend at the moment.

            Pulling the not too terribly scratchy comforter up to his nose, he closed his eyes again, wondering if holding very, very still would lessen the tramp of what seemed like a thousand jack-booted soldiers in his head.  Slowing his breathing down he managed to reduce the army down by ten, then twenty, until it was a dull pain that could be ignored if he could just get back to sleep.  Right as he was about to tip over into unconsciousness he heard keys in the door and then the turn of the handle, the smell of food and outside wafting into the room, the heavy thump of Dean’s footsteps bringing it closer, each one making Sam bury his head under the pillows, silently cursing his well-meaning but completely uncouth brother with as much malice as he could manage at the moment – only for a moment later to hear them stop as Dean slipped his shoes off and pad over to the side of the bed Sam was trying to disappear into.

            “Thought you’d still be asleep princess.  Feeling any better?” Dean’s voice sounded light but even through the bleariness of pain Sam could tell he was worried – something Sam didn’t like hearing in his voice, especially since he was normally the cause of it.

            “Feels like someone bashed a gravestone over my head.”  Sam hoped Dean was listening carefully because he was not coming out from under the pillows if he could avoid it.

            “That’s actually happened before and trust me when I say this Sam – you looked ten times better after that happened than when I dragged your Sasquatch ass in here earlier.”  Dean moved closer, moving by feel in the dim light and touching Sam’s shoulder, rubbing gentle circles into it and feeling Sam relax a little, noticing that the pain dulled the barest of fractions at the touch.

            Sam’s body pulled like a magnet into Dean’s palm, coming out from under the pillows and looking in the direction of where Dean’s head should be.  “You think so?”

            “Sam the last time you got carsick you were in third grade, so I don’t think it’s that.  And no one’s head has gotten bashed in over the last few days so I got squat on why your noggin’s the way it is.”  Dean kept rubbing Sam’s back, expanding the circles slowly and patiently awaiting Sam’s reply, focused on _make Sammy feel better._

            Feeling like he could speak above a whisper now, Sam tucked the pillow under his cheek and closed his eyes as he presented his theory to Dean.  “I think it’s residual from the visions – without the visions.  It feels that way anyhow, like they want to happen but actually aren’t.  I’m not gonna complain though – last thing I need is that again.”

            Dean pursed his lips, thinking for a moment.  “Any idea on how to make it better?”

            Sam had blanked out for a moment, getting lost in the feeling of Dean’s gentle touch on his back.  “I…well that helps.”

            “This?”  Dean shifted to where he could rub Sam’s back with two hands, a groan of what he hoped was relief passing from Sam’s lips.

            “Feels good De.”  The second half of Dean’s name was lost, Sam feeling more like himself for the first time all day, wiggling out from under the covers so that Dean could have better access to him – he found himself suddenly wanting for Dean to touch him all over, moving as close to the edge of the mattress as he could without falling to the floor, even though Dean would do his best to catch him if he did. Dean started to massage him with a little more force, digging into the muscle as best as he could from this angle, Sam going pliant and looking at Dean with sleepy eyes.

            “What’s for dinner?”  It came out slurred, the pitch rising and falling in accordance with the motions of Dean’s expert hands.

            “Pizza and beer.  Or water.  Whichever one you like Sammy.”  Dean moved to where he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, Sam moving so that he could lie with his head in Dean’s lap.

            “I am kinda hungry, now that I think about it.”  Sam shifted just enough to where he could look up into Dean’s eyes, smiling as if to give his brother some encouragement that he was feeling better.

            “You sure?”  Dean ran a hand through Sam’s hair, slowly and carefully as to not cause him any more discomfort than necessary.

            “Dean, I’m not dying.  Just my head hurts, is all.”  Sam didn’t make a move to pull away from him however, Dean’s body warm and comforting.

            “Alright. C’mon Sasquatch, I ain’t feeding ya, not matter how cross eyed you get.”  Sam gave him a swat, only to slowly pick himself up and follow Dean over to the table, resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder as he moved the pizza boxes so that they were no longer stacked on top of each other, opening them so that Sam could pick what he wanted – sausage and pepperoni or spinach and feta, both of which Sam would gladly eat.  Detaching himself from Dean and picking one from each and putting them on a napkin, he settled himself into one of the chairs, hungrily folding up the slice of sausage and pepperoni and biting nearly half of it off, his stomach growling as he chewed, Dean sitting down across from him and joining him, sliding a bottle of water towards Sam and opening up a bottle of Natty Greene’s for himself, glad to see that Sam was at least getting some sort of relief, even if it was stuffing his face full of cheese and meat.

            Four slices later and Sam finally slowed, down, wiping his fingers off as he swallowed his last bite, draining his water bottle in one go and then reaching for another, Dean hooking his feet around Sam’s ankles and rubbing up and down, smiling across at Sam, eyes full of care and concern.  Sam smiled back, setting down his drink and reaching for Dean’s wrists.

            “You know, I feel grimy from the road and everything else.  Will you come shower with me?”  Sam picked up one of Dean’s hands and kissed each knuckle slowly, his head feeling better and his stomach full.

            Dean returned Sam’s smile and rose, moving over to one of the bags he’d brought back, tossing an orange pill bottle to Sam.

            “Take two of those first and that should help.  I know it’s not you know, anything your body’s doing but I had to try.”  Dean looked a little worried, the weight of his own words hitting him, that feeling of I can’t help Sam tugging his shoulders down.  Sam immediately got up and went over to him, drawing Dean towards him and enfolding him in a hug, muffling himself in Dean’s hair as he spoke.

            “I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you Dean – I’d be in California in a lot worse shape than I am now, or worse.  Don’t you ever feel like you’re not doing enough for me – you are.  You always have, and….” Sam took a moment to let a throb of pain pass, masking it with an intake of breath. “You always will.  D’you understand me?”  Sam squeezed him just a little harder, nuzzling the side of Dean’s head so that he’d look at him, green eyes meeting his after another moment.

            Dean took a deep breath and nodded.  “Yeah, yeah I do Sammy.” He didn’t feel like saying anything more, afraid of how the words would come out because he was scared, confused, _helpless_.  Dean hated that feeling but seeing Sam looking marginally better than he had three hours ago did help to quiet that raw lump of inept he felt in his throat.

            Sam leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, closing his eyes and murmuring.  “C’mon.”  Sam reached down with both hands and laced Dean’s fingers with his, pulling him towards the bathroom, stepping out of his shoes in what he hoped was a fairly fluid motion.  Dean followed suit, boots cast aside with two loud clunks as he pulled like a moon into the sun of Sam, bright and overwhelming as Sam’s lips connected with his in a gentle kiss, the two of them resting against the doorjamb to the open bathroom, Sam’s outsized but gentle hands cupping Dean’s face, Dean reaching for his belt and helping him get his jeans off, fingers deft and careful over the button and zipper as so not to catch on Sam’s half-hard cock.  Sam stepped back slightly as to allow Dean to shimmy them down his thighs, falling the rest of the way of their own accord.

            “Want me to…” Dean’s voice trailed off as he reached for Sam’s cock, fingers curling around it mid-shaft and pulling forward, foreskin bunching and retracting in response.  Sam leaned against Dean for a moment, one hand on the doorjamb above his head and the other squarely planted on Dean’s chest, fingers splayed over the amulet resting there.  Sam let himself drink from that fount of touch before responding, eyes closed as Dean’s callused and wonderful fingers drew him out from the misery his head was still trying to cause him. 

            “Shower.”  It came out a little stammered but Dean got the message, giving Sam one final tug before crossing his arms over and pulling his t-shirt off, Sam sneaking a kiss to his naked chest as he cast if off, his younger brother’s fingers getting his jeans and boxer briefs off in a quick motion that made Dean swell with pride – Sam was a smooth operator if there ever was one, even if he claimed that he didn’t exude the magnetism and suave that Dean did – he was dead wrong, and Dean would tell him that until he was blue in the face.

            Actually getting into the bathroom took a long moment, too caught up in putting their hands on each other’s bodies, Dean suddenly finding an obsession with the chest hair Sam hadn’t had before he went off to Stanford, rubbing his fingers through it as Sam kissed him deeper, using his advantage in height to dominate, Dean willingly submitting and moving his body in sync with Sam’s, slow drag of hips up and down, up and down, Sam whining low in his throat when Dean’s hands settled on his ass and squeezed.

            Sam finally broke away, hard cock swinging back and forth, Dean’s focus fixating on the way the foreskin was still pulled over the head, the pink tip sticking out and dripping precome, thick and heavy between Sam’s legs.  Dean reached for it from behind as Sam started the water, smearing the clear slick around on his fingers and then drawing them to his mouth, moaning against the burst of salt on his tongue.  Sam leaned in for a kiss, licking the inside of Dean’s mouth for a taste, both of them pulling closer together for a moment before the room started to fill with steam.  Without missing a beat Sam opened the door to the stall and stepped in, Dean closing the glass shut and standing under the water, Sam’s hands reaching for his hair and touching his lips to Dean’s again, a gravitational pull that Sam gladly submitted too.

            They stood there for a long time, simply kissing and exploring each other’s mouths, the water washing over them in near scalding waves, neither noticing that the water pressure was actually very, very good – Sam was far more interested in the way that Dean was lining their cocks up tip to tip, moving entirely by feel as he slid the head of his cock under Sam’s foreskin, Sam whimpering into his mouth as he moved under Dean’s, his heartbeat thundering in his ears – they didn’t do this often, only when they wanted to feel particularly close, like after a really bad hunt or one of them got hurt, needing that deeply intimate contact.to re-ground them.  Dean figured that now was one of those times, given just how rough of shape Sam had been in earlier.

            Dean broke the kiss, his voice just barely audible over the water.  “That feel good Sammy?”

            Sam had his eyes shut, concentrating on where Dean’s fingers were wrapped over where they were connected. “Y...yeah, feels fucking amazing Dean.”  Sam’s breathing had slowed, long, steady inhalations of damp, warm air that were helping clear his head quicker than he would have imagined.

            “Fucking love this Sammy, love being close to you.”  Dean nuzzled Sam’s cheek and kissed down his wet neck as he began to move his hand over them, all of Sam’s focus and sensation shifting south, one arm going around Dean’s waist and the other cupping Dean’s jaw, his lips sliding back over his brother’s and opening up to Dean’s searching tongue, moving against Sam’s, teasing him further into his mouth, Sam practically purring low in his throat as Dean sucked on his bottom lip, his whole body feeling though as it was smoldering from the warm feeling centered low in his stomach, not at all to do with the hot water. 

            Dean gave and took control of the kiss in accordance with what Sam communicated with his body, seemingly content to let Dean drive one moment and then trying to take over the next, malleable one second and not to be submitted the next, all the while Dean’s hand keeping a very slow, steady rhythm over their cocks, an ever widening starburst of pleasure that radiated outward and upward through their bodies – Sam was lost in that feeling, between Dean’s hand gently tugging and stroking his hair and the deliciously rough drag of his palm over their skin, both of them slippery with precome and trying to hold off orgasm, wanting to let it last as long as it could but unable to resist the sheer sensory overload, ratcheting higher and higher until Sam wasn’t aware of anything else save for the overwhelming urge to come.

            “Dean I…” Sam couldn’t get any more out, not when Dean did this incredible twisting motion that nearly sent him over the edge right then.

            “Me too Sammy, right there with you. Come on, come for me baby, let me feel you.”  Dean twisted again and that was it, Sam went over the edge and his whole body went impossibly taught, only to unbow half a moment later as he spent himself, Dean coming the second he felt that white hot slick from Sam, adding his own to it and hungrily kissing the low scream from Sam’s mouth as they flew over that precipice together, down, down, down until they landed hand in hand, Sam going boneless as Dean eased them down to the shower floor, the water still going hot and strong as Dean gathered Sam to his chest, both of them panting and shaking, breathing into each other’s skin and keeping their eyes closed until the constellations stopped flickering in the darkness of eyelids.

            Dean spoke first, soaping a washcloth up as he put his lips right next to Sam’s ear and began to wash him.  “You scared me this afternoon baby boy.”  Sam never heard that term unless they were deep in sex or Dean had been scared out of his wits, and right now it came from both of those circumstances.

            “Didn’t mean to De, swear I didn’t.  Never, ever mean to.  I just… I can’t make it not happen.”  Sam rested his head back against Dean’s shoulder, solid and reassuring, thinking that it was perfectly alright if Dean let him stay there couched against him forever.

            “I know it Sammy, I do.  Did any of this help though, at all?”  Dean moved the washcloth down in between Sam’s legs, tenderly washing his genitals, the soft, deliberate motions relighting the warmth Sam had felt earlier just enough to make Sam a little more sleepy.

            Sam took a quick stock of himself, the pain reduced to a faint throb that was no worse than when he’d been staring at his computer screen for too long.  “Yeah, it has.  Think that once I sleep it should be completely gone.”

            Dean kissed the side of his neck as he washed Sam’s legs.  “Think so?”

            “Definitely.”  Sam turned his head for a kiss, one that Dean gladly gave, reaching around to rest a hand over Sam’s heart, beating strong and steady underneath his palm.  It went on for a long while, no rush or desperation to it in the slightest, simple, pure pleasurable feeling, comforting and grounding and sustaining.

            Sam eventually sat forward, reaching for the soap and washing Dean just as carefully and thoroughly as Dean had done for him, stopping every few moments to place a kiss to clean skin, washing each other’s hair until their eyes were half-hooded with sleep, taking a long time to rinse and make out some more under the steady pulse of water, only getting out when Sam yawned mid kiss.

            Drying off took a lot more effort than it should have, both of them too busy trying to rest against each other’s shoulders and sleep rather than run a towel over wet flesh, eventually dry enough to where they could brush their teeth and fall into bed without soaking the mattress, Dean laying on his back and Sam pillowing his head right over Dean’s heart, sleep overtaking him within a minute of laying down.

            Dean waited until he was sure Sam wouldn’t wake up again, his eyes sliding closed as the murmur of the Oklahoma countryside sounded outside their window, soft moonlight just peeking through the slot in the curtains.

.  .  .

            It was a little too late for first light when Dean’s eyes opened again, but it was still early, the sun barely making shadows in their motel room.  Sam by this point was more or less stretched across Dean’s body, face tucked against Dean’s chest and dead to the world, his breathing barely perceptible, the blankets gathered up high around his neck.  The only visible part of Sam was his head, and from Dean’s angle all he could see was soft russet locks, longer now than they had been six months ago, Sam a college student with a future and…. Well Dean wasn’t going to think about _that,_ the sometimes crawling feeling of shitshitnotgoodenoughSammyreplacedme that tended to well up whenever Sam smiled at a pretty blonde waitress or librarian.  It made his stomach twist up more than Bobby’s strongest whiskey did, made him feel sick.

            Instead, Dean leaned his head forward and kissed Sam’s hair, his eyes squeezed shut as he inhaled, Sam smelling of cheap shampoo and himself, the musky leathery smell of Dean’s body, probably from sleeping with his head pillowed on Dean’s chest for several hours.  And from existing in his space for most of his life. And… Dean sighed, pulling Sam a little closer to him, Sam barely stirring, only a soft huff of air against Dean’s sternum as his breathing evened out again.

            Dean gently made lines back and forth across Sam’s shoulders, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke into Sam’s soft hair.  “This is never what I wanted for you Sam, not this life.  Don’t want you to have headaches because of freaky psychic shit or anything else other than studying too hard.”  Dean shifted so that he could reach for Sam’s bangs and brush them back.  “Never… never wanted you to fall in love with your own brother because he was all you had.”  Dean blinked away tears, hot and blurring his vision, leaning his head back so that they didn’t blot on Sam’s skin.  He wished Sam was awake to tell him he was wrong, that he was letting his fear get the better of him – but he dared not spare Sam the rest, not when it was far too rare for him to sleep this long and uninterrupted.

            Dean let his breath out slowly, eyes open as he stared past the foot of the bed into the dimness and gently rocked Sam back and forth, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders and feeling, if he was being frank with himself, helpless.

            “Dean?”  The question was hushed, as if it was posed any louder that he was afraid

            “Shhhhh, Sammy.”  Dean choked back a sob, steadying himself and not lessening his hold on Sam in the slightest.

            Sam heard the catch in Dean’s voice and nuzzled Dean’s chest, kissing the smooth skin. “What’s wrong?”  Sam tried to blanket Dean as much as he could from this position, squeezing him back just the same as Dean was to him.

            “Don’t worry Sammy, just…” Dean didn’t need to say anything more, just hugged Sam a little tighter and took a deep breath, hoping that lungs full of oxygen would help clear his head and banish the worry and doubt along the edges of his consciousness.

            “’M not going anywhere Dean, not even gonna think about it, if that’s what’s worrying you.”  Sam’s voice was quiet but even, hoping his words penetrated Dean’s disquiet – they must have, because he felt him nod and breathe, warm puffs of air against his scalp.  Sam wriggled around a little bit so that he could look at Dean’s face, smiling a little at him as he brushed away a tear with his thumb.

            Dean cupped one side of Sam’s face, Sam turning into the touch and kissing his palm, keeping his lips there for a long moment before looking back up at Dean, scooting up so that his nose was pressed against Dean’s left cheek, his naked body fitting perfectly to Dean’s side, his eyes half open as he rubbed soothing circles into the space above Dean’s heart.

            “You okay now?”  Sam waited a while before he asked, just let the feel of his body against Dean’s do some of the work for him, hoping that he could find solace simply in by feeling skin against skin, the warmth Sam was radiating after spending so long wrapped in Dean’s arms.

            Dean turned his head so that he could look directly at Sam. “Will be Sammy, promise.’  Dean gave him a kiss to the forehead, making Sam mewl and try to tuck himself under Dean’s chin.  Dean let him, Sam’s stubble tickling at his neck as he reached for Dean’s right hand, linking their fingers together.  They lay their together in silence for a long while, Sam touching as much of Dean as he could with his body, the only sound being distant songbirds and their breathing, nothing more.  It was peaceful, as if they were waiting on the world to take its first breath.  Dean let his mind go blank, focusing instead on how warm Sam’s body was next to his, how safe and content he felt holding Sam like this – comfort for comfort, getting lost in the calm of it and drifting, almost feeling as though he was floating.

            Sam broke the silence after a while, his voice bringing Dean back to the presence next to him.  “I was dreaming about you Dean.”

            Dean breathed into Sam’s hair again and asked “What about me?”

            Sam moved to where Dean could turn and look at his face.  “We were kissing, some place peaceful, isolated. Just the two of us.”

            “Yeah?”  Dean turned onto his side and propped up on one arm, tracing a finger in between Sam’s pecs and through his chest hair.

            “Yeah.  And…” Sam touched his own hand to Dean’s chest, smoothing over it and down to Dean’s stomach, coming back up again slowly.  “We were naked.”

            Dean perked up a little more, leaning in closer to Sam’s face.  “Tell me more babe.”

            Sam smiled at the pet name, a hint of white teeth flashing in the dim morning light. “I was on top of you, rocking my hips.  I wasn’t inside you, just… right against you, your cock against mine.  God, Dean it was so, so warm like that, no rushing or anything like that, no sense of ‘this has to be over quick’.”  Dean’s face was but a centimeter from Sam’s, the words from Sam’s mouth touching his lips, each syllable enticing Dean more and more.

            “You know Sam we can do that. Right now if you-“   Dean’s words fell silent as Sam’s lips sealed over his, Dean’s breath being stolen away as Sam’s tongue slowly ran along the seam of his lips, Dean willingly letting him in and carding his fingers through Sam’s hair, Sam humming softly in response as he gently moved towards Dean and turned him onto his back, thighs spreading as he settled over Dean’s body, lined up from chest to feet.  Dean hooked his feet over the backs of Sam’s ankles, locking them together, Sam’s entire body warm and pliant and perfect against his.

            Sam didn’t move, save for putting all ten fingers in Dean’s short dark blonde locks and massaging his scalp, like he was washing his hair, Dean’s hands soothing up and down Sam’s back in long, slow movements, unhurried, deliberate, this time done in intimacy rather than out of bringing Sam relief from pain.  Sam shifted his body more, his rapidly filling cock lined up with Dean’s, catching and dragging against it.  Dean moaned softly against Sam’s lips, gripping his hair a little tighter and picking his hips up off the bed a little to meet Sam’s, to get more friction.

            Dean was leaking precome by this point, sticky beads wetting Sam’s treasure trail from where he was sliding against him, foreskin moving in accordance with the slide of his hips.  Sam ground his hips down a little harder, eventually taking his hands and linking them with Dean’s on either side of Dean’s head, his hold on them lessening and tightening in sync with how he moved his body against his brother’s – there was no rushing, no urge to come right away.  This was a slow build, a low simmer eventually being brought to a boil, tender, loving affectionate.  They could fuck each other’s brains out (and had done many times before) and leave each other panting and numb but Sam would never not enjoy this just as much, this opportunity to caress and hold hands and make out while their lower bodies locked in perfectly together. 

            Dean pulled with his ankles a little harder, locking Sam tighter to him.  He could feel that warm fire spreading out from his belly downwards, his cock thickening even more and blurting more precome against Sam’s.  Sam sucked on Dean’s bottom lip and it drew a long, shattered breath out of Dean, his whole body shaking because he was convinced that that was the best goddamn feeling in the world, that sensation of Sam peeling back his layers to get to his core.  Dean loved it and the touch of Sam’s tongue running over his bottom lip put him that much closer to coming. 

            “Sammy…”  Dean fought the urge to close his eyes, wanting to see every expression on Sam’s face while they did this.

            “Me too Dean, right here with you.”  Sam rutted a little harder, whimpering a little because he’s found that one groove of Dean’s hip, that spot that made it seem as though they were built to fit together to do this.

            “Come with me Sammy, want to feel you too baby.”  Dean kissed and nipped at Sam’s chin and jaw, each pinprick of his teeth making Sam’s body quiver, teasing his orgasm out that much faster.

            “Yeah, yeah Dean gonna... _God, Dean_.”  Dean had fucked his hips upward, harder than before, essentially trapping them together, hot and slightly sticky with sweat and precome, dragging against each other and a moment later Dean captured Sam’s mouth with his and he came, Sam following not a second later, come staining their hips and bellies, hot and wet and perfect.  They kept rubbing against each other until Dean’s body collapsed back against the bed, Sam still panting into his mouth, arms gathered tight around Dean’s head and neck.  It was a little dizzying but Sam’s head didn’t hurt in the least, too muddled and fuzzy with pleasure to even think about what had been bothering him the day before.

            They didn’t move for what had to be half an hour at least, breathing in each other’s sleep-warm scent and listening to each other’s heartbeat slow – they didn’t have anywhere to be, so there was no need to rush this.  It was a far more effective painkiller than any filched drug from a hospital, that uncomplicated, unfiltered tenderness.  Sam couldn’t ask for Dean to do more, because it was what he needed the most, what soothed him best. 

Eventually Sam stirred, the come sticking slightly to his body as he moved so that he was looking up at the ceiling, the side of his head against Dean’s, bodies still touching as much as possible.  Dean ran a hand through Sam’s sweaty hair and put his lips next to Sam’s right ear.  “I love you Sammy.”  Dean shut his eyes and breathed in deep, his nose right against Sam’s shoulder.

            “I love you too Dean, so, so much.” Sam turned so that he was on his side, burying his face in Dean’s neck and kissing the sweat-damp skin nearest his lips, Dean pulling him a little closer and turning to face him.  Sam let himself go loose, Dean’s hands on his back and cradling him, feeling sated and, if he dared think the word out loud, carefree, staying like that with Dean until the come was dry on their bodies and the songbirds welcomed the midmorning sun.

.  .  .

            Over the next couple of weeks the headaches didn’t make a reappearance, and within two days’ time Sam was looking and feeling much like his normal self – something that he and Dean promptly took advantage of, interspersing cases with rounds of sex that left them both dripping with come and sweat, unable to move for an hour after they came.  Sam almost felt as though he had something to prove, to show Dean that he was okay and not easily defeated, even though Dean told him repeatedly that he didn’t have to do so.  Blame stubborn Winchester genes, Sam would tell him.  That stubbornness tended to manifest itself most when Sam was topping, fucking Dean so hard that Dean was convinced he was actually going to fall through the mattress. 

            Not that he minded that one bit, especially since Sam had this uncanny ability to find his sweet spot on every thrust, and Dean was all the more glad for it – no one had ever made him come so hard or completely as Sam, and had told him that many times.  Sam always blushed and smiled but Dean could see the pride and hint of smugness in his eyes when said that.

            They were in Appalachia, at the border of Kentucky, Tennessee, and Virginia, not far from Johnson City when the next one occurred, after having caught wind of a possible wendigo.  (They seemed to be cropping up quite a lot lately, and all over the country too.)  They were in the small but surprisingly bountiful information wise local library, Sam and Dean both at microfilm terminals (the town hadn’t quite made the switch to computers yet) looking at transfers of old newspapers, going back some seventy five years, just to be on the safe side.  Sam had felt a twinge of discomfort when he first sat down, thinking that it was just the change in altitude from their previous location.  Blinking his way through it, he sat down and opened the first microfilm, Dean at the terminal opposite, his shoe shucked off and rubbing his toes up and down the inside of Sam’s calf.  Sam smiled across at him and put his eyes to the viewport, fingers carefully manipulating the controls to his right.

            Dean watched Sam for a moment, the way his breathing slowed, his mouth held open partially, the way it was always positioned when Sam did research, pink lips like a beacon in the dim light of the library.  Dean thought about the way they had stretched around his cock that morning, Sam having awakened him with a blowjob.  Dean stifled a groan of longing because it had been fucking awesome, the first thing he saw being Sam’s hazel eyes (more green today than anything) flashing up at him as the head of his cock rested against his lips, Sam’s tongue licking at his frenulum, framed by a dazzling smile before he went back down on him.  Dean spread his legs a little as he felt himself thicken, Sam not noticing a thing.

            Or so Dean had been lead to believe.

            Sam’s toes found their way up to Dean’s crotch, his right foot rubbing and kneading Dean’s balls.  Dean didn’t say a word, didn’t make a sound, simply flicked his gaze to Sam’s partially hidden face, his lips curled in a smirk, giving himself away completely.  Dean returned the favor and God, Sam was already hard, just from feeling Dean up with his foot.  Dean did his best to return the favor, deciding that he could multitask and slid the microfilm into its slot, deciding that aiding in research might get him a second blowjob later since Sam was obviously in a frisky mood.

            An hour passed, Sam ignoring the occasional throb of his head and instead focusing on old reports of people disappearing and turning Dean on, Dean practically useless at this point, having not turned the knob of his viewer for the last twenty minutes – Sam knew he wasn’t reading an article that closely.  Shaking his head and putting a little extra pressure on Dean’s now very hard and probably dripping cock, he put in the fourth roll of microfilm and leaned into the viewport, only for a second later for his vision to white with pain.

            Sam’s knuckles turned white, gripping the control knob and hunching his shoulders, pulling back from the viewer and covering his eyes with his free hand, biting his lip to hold back the cry of pain that threatened to tear its way from his lips.  Dean was there immediately, crouching down next to him and putting his hands on his cheeks.

            “Sammy? Sammy you okay?”  Dean’s voice was quiet, not wanting to alarm other patrons. This section of the library was thankfully deserted but he didn’t want to draw any attention nonetheless.

            Sam shook his head, curling towards Dean, Dean’s strong hands moving to rest on his shoulders, drawing him down and kissing his forehead.  Tender touch had worked the last time, and there was no reason for it to not now. 

            “Sam, look at me.” Sam shakily removed his hand from over his eyes, Dean visible through the near-encompassing stab of pain.  Dean smiled at him, his left hand going to Sam’s cheek, thumb stroking over the space under his eye.  Dean kept the motion slow, deliberate, Sam eventually opening his eyes to just past halfway, the pain lessening by the smallest of increments but lessening all the same, his own hands resting on Dean’s biceps.

            “I… I’m sorry Dean, so sorry.”  Sam’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment and then opened again, a tear running down his cheek because he _hurt_ so fucking bad, eyes burning with more pain and discomfort, trying to turn away so that Dean didn’t have to see him.

            “Not your fault Sam, not at all.”  Dean leaned forward and kissed his lips, infinitely gentle and loving.  Sam stilled, his attention shifting towards the soothing feeling of Dean’s mouth against his.  A lot of parts of Dean were hard, rough, tempered by a life of rough living but his lips…. Dean’s lips had always been soft, especially when they touched Sam.  Sam kissed back as best he could, the soreness slackening to where he could at least move and reach to cup Dean’s face in his hands.  Dean pressed the kiss just a fraction more, hands sliding around to the back of Sam’s neck, pulling him up gently out of his seat without breaking the kiss and standing, having to stand on tiptoe slightly so that he could keep as much of himself touching Sam as possible.

            Dean didn’t pull away as he murmured “Got an idea” and pulled Sam towards the bathroom, looking around to make sure that no one was paying them any mind.  Save for the librarian checking books and a couple people browsing the paperbacks near the front, no one was there to pay them any heed.  Dean opened the bathroom door and urged Sam inside, pointing him towards the handicap stall.  Sam went, Dean right behind him as he clicked the stall door shut and put his arms around Sam, turning one hand to palm Sam’s cock through his jeans, the other hand very carefully massaging the right side of Sam’s head.

            “This seemed to work last time Sammy and we’re gonna try it again, alright? Do you trust me?”  Dean kissed Sam’s chin, not making another move until Sam answered.

            “Yeah, yeah I do Dean.  Completely.”  Dean gave him another warm kiss before dropping to his knees, kissing Sam’s stomach and hips as he unbuckled Sam’s belt, moving it aside and quickly unbuttoning and unzipping the fly of Sam’s jeans, tugging them down to his feet along with his boxers.  Sam was half hard from earlier, his cock hanging right at eye level, thick and veiny, precome making the tip slightly glossy.  Dean leaned forward and sucked the head into his mouth, wrapping one hand around the base and using the other cup and roll Sam’s weighty balls, tugging gently and listening intently to Sam’s moan of what he sincerely hoped was pleasure.

            Sam’s fingers found their way into Dean’s dark blonde locks, not pulling, purely there to feel the softness, to let Dean know he was doing what Sam needed most.  Dean took that as a sign to go a little further and opened his mouth wider, Sam’s cock now fully hard, leaking precome against Dean’s tongue and stretching his lips.  Dean made a fist and raised himself up a little more, shutting his eyes and taking Sam all the way in until his nose was touching Sam’s stomach, Sam silent save for deep breaths that were decidedly less panicked than before.  Dean’s eyes watered, tears that he violently hoped Sam didn’t see leaking out of the corners – he wasn’t crying, just adjusting.  Sam was big, porn star big, well over eight inches – Dean was just glad he’s stopped growing when he hit eighteen, Sam’s cock having not been small when they’d first gotten together when Sam was fifteen.  Dean had spent a lot of time in the intervening years practicing and perfecting, always seeking to give Sam the best damn head he could manage – and he’d gotten very, very good at it, if Sam’s continuous appraisal of his skills was any evidence, and right now Sam needed everything Dean had to offer.

            Dean hummed, the vibrations from his voice making Sam shiver with pleasure.  Already he could feel his agony dissipating more, especially since Dean’s warm mouth and throat felt fucking fantastic, even though he wasn’t moving.  Sam didn’t dare buck forward, lest Dean should choke – it had happened a couple times before and neither occasion was one they wanted to remember.  Instead Sam relaxed a little more, whispering “keep going,” tugging gently at Dean’s hair to send the message a little clearer.

            Dean pulled all the way off to take a deep breath, rolling the taste of Sam’s precome on around on his tongue and looking up at him, kissing the end of Sam’s cock and pulling his foreskin back, pink of the head blending with Dean’s spit wet lips – it was an image Sam wanted to freeze forever, Dean hungrily lapping up his precome and his hair all mussed where Sam had tousled it.  Sam ran a hand appreciatively over Dean’s cheek as Dean took him halfway down, hollowing his cheeks and moaning, his own cock rock hard as he took the hand on Sam’s balls and used it to free himself of his jeans, stroking himself as he used his hand and mouth in conjunction to move up and down Sam’s cock, keeping his hold tight and varying suction to draw as much sensation as possible from Sam.  Dean had learned long ago that slow and deliberate worked far better on Sam that fast and sloppy – for whatever reason Sam was just a touch more sensitive down there than Dean and loved to have his buttons and limits pushed as much as possible.

            “Feels… feels good Dean.”  Sam closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, Dean responding by swirling his tongue around the head and then going back down, alternating technique and speed over Sam’s whole length.  Sam moaned, loud, not caring in the least because this was helping him immensely, the pain lessening every time Dean’s perfect mouth glided back down his cock, noisily slurping and licking, spit running down his chin.  Dean was enjoying himself, making Sam feel good, his own cock leaking where he was keeping his attention focused on the head, fingers sticky with precome, intent on coming with Sam or not at all.

            Dean backed off to ask Sam how he was doing.  “Feeling better yet?”  Dean kept stroking Sam, his eyes flashing jade as he looked up at him.

            Sam nodded, leaning down to kiss Dean and taste himself on his lips.  “A lot, yeah.  Want to come Dean, all over your face.  Promise I’ll clean you up.”  Sam tried to sound as seductive as he could, thinking he did an alright job considering that ten minutes ago he hadn’t been able to move due to the intense agony he’d been in.

            “You got it baby, just let me work alright?”  Dean kissed Sam back one more time before going for his cock, speeding up what he’d been doing before and sucking a little harder, Sam aware of how close he was getting.  Dean had done a stellar job of teasing it out, bit by bit, playing Sam like a virtuoso at the keyboard – when it came to knowing how to touch Sam, Dean was beyond world class.  Sam’s mouth fell open, Dean squeezing upwards on his cock and sucking just right at the head and that was all it took, Sam letting go with a groan and coming all over Dean’s lips and chin, globs of white that tasted like the fruit salad Sam had eaten with lunch.  Dean shot his load all over his hand and the floor in front of him, hoping it didn’t stain Sam’s jeans (not that Sam would have cared in the slightest.) 

            Sam leaned down to kiss Dean, his tongue working over his mouth and chin to taste his own come, feeding it back to Dean until there was none left, then proceeding to lick Dean’s fingers clean, sucking down each one and listening to Dean whimper with pleasure.  As they both stood Dean drew Sam in for one more lingering kiss, sucking on his tongue and smiling, threading his fingers through Sam’s hair and resting his forehead against Sam’s.

            “All good now?”  Dean kissed Sam’s chin and looked at him with warmth in his eyes.

            “Definitely.  Think I like your method of painkilling Dean.”  Sam gave Dean one more squeeze before opening the stall to go and clean himself up a little more.

            “Anytime Sammy, really.  If that’s what I have to do, I will. Promise.”  Dean kissed Sam’s shoulder as he turned on the tap to wash his hands and clean the remaining come from his face, smiling at Sam in the mirror and watching his face.  Sam looked a lot better now, as if nothing at all had been wrong with him.

            No one paid them any attention when they emerged from the bathroom together, in spite of looking quite flushed and hair messier than when they’d entered it – all for the better, since they weren’t exactly willing to answer questions from nosy locals.  When they went back to their task Dean didn’t sit opposite, instead pulling up a chair beside Sam and resting his head on his shoulder, writing down information as Sam read it off to him, not quite ready to let him go yet.

.  .  .

            They set out to find their wendigo a couple days later, the road nearest the entrance to the forest three miles away, neither of them terribly excited about heading into mountainous terrain that held a monster that, if their research was reliable (and Sam felt it was) had been terrorizing locals for some eighty years now – this thing was huge, mean, and probably a lot harder to kill than the last one they hunted.  Dean gave him a kiss before gesturing for Sam to follow, Sam swallowing against his rising nerves and readying his flare gun, absently reaching for the second tucked in his belt – they weren’t taking any chances on missing this beast.  
            The deeper they went into the forest the more faint the light became overhead, a result of the tall conifers and mountains around them.  This was exactly the reason why both of them hated hunting in this kind of territory, too many rocks and trees to trip and fall over, no fast way of getting out.  Both were on their guard, listening carefully for any sounds that weren’t due to the wildlife that was supposed to be there. (Dean had seen something about bears in one of the brochures at their motel and hoped to God that they didn’t have to face down one of those too) and keeping some of his attention focused to the sound of Sam’s footsteps behind him, since wendigos could indeed be silent if they wanted to be.

            Sam’s head was threatening to hurt, occasional flashes of pain shooting across his vision like lightning from a distant storm on the horizon.  If it got any worse he was just going to have to bite down and deal with it – he’d gotten lucky in that the previous ones hadn’t happened while they were out in the field.  He’d been doing his best to plan for it but all the same they couldn’t exactly stop in the middle of dangerous forest to take care of it – Sam was starting to feel more and more like a burden, no matter how many times Dean reassured him that he wasn’t.  Steeling his nerve and not focusing on the growing pressure in his head, he stopped behind where Dean was crouching on the ground, inspecting a footprint that definitely didn’t belong to any of the native fauna.

            “We’re close, Sam.”  Dean looked up, thinking about which direction they should go in next – the print faced west, so that would likely be their best bet.

            “Want to split up?”  Sam held his breath, listening closely for the creature – for all they knew it could be within earshot, and that thought made him more than a little nervous.  They’d seen worse but that never made it any better, Sam blinking back a sharper stab of pain as he waited for Dean’s answer.

            “Hell no – we’re sticking together.  Gonna take both of us to bring this fucker down.”  Dean looked back at Sam and touched his knee briefly before straightening.  “How’s the head?”

            Sam winced, an arc of hurt dancing across the left side of his skull.  “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”  Sam tried to sound convincing but given the way Dean looked at him he knew he’d failed to.

            “We can go if-“

            “No, Dean.  We’re out here and we’re gonna take care of this thing.  I’ll be fine.”  Sam put a hand on the small of Dean’s back, urging him to keep moving, Dean sighing and stepping forward, muttering under his breath about stubborn little brothers.

            Sam rolled his eyes, following close behind and reciting various rituals in his head instead of giving attention to the mounting throb along his frontal lobe – he wasn’t going to be a hindrance if he could help it.

            The wendigo’s lair was another three quarters of a mile west, what looked like an old mineshaft forming the entrance.  Dean laced his fingers with Sam’s for a moment, squeezing them tight before letting go and walking in, Sam covering their rear, flashlight and flare gun at the ready.  They were also looking for two hikers that had gone missing, the reason they’d come out here in the first place.  If they were dead there wasn’t much they could do but if they were alive they were prepared with a first aid kit and water, Sam’s backpack containing the items and secured fast to him.

            A low growl from their left sounded out, freezing both of them in their tracks.  Dean tucked his flashlight in his teeth, drawing the second flare gun from his waistband and holding it up, looking at Sam and nodding, Sam returning it and shutting his eyes against the twinge of what had moved from discomfort to full on pain, Dean looking at him worriedly before Sam growled “go,” Dean turning and stepping forward reluctantly.

            They didn’t have to search for their quarry for long – it came to them, head nearly scraping the ceiling of the mineshaft and roaring so loud that Sam could swear he felt his bones rattle.  It was also fast, taking both of them by surprise, Dean’s first flare sailing past it by three feet.  And of course they couldn’t exactly turn in run – they’d been backed into a corner, and of course Dean had dropped his flashlight when he’d cursed upon seeing it.  Sam shoved Dean behind him and shot off both flares at the same time, the first hitting the ceiling and the second connecting with the wendigo’s chest right as a massive, clawed hand tore across his front, taking with it a good portion of his jacket and tearing through to the skin, the wendigo staggering backwards and roaring as it succumbed to the flame.  Sam had wound up falling backwards on top of Dean, rolling off of him after a moment and clutching his front.

            “Sammy? Sam are you okay?”  Dean sat up, fishing for the lighter in his pocket and flicking it open, reaching for Sam in the dim light and holding the Zippo up, his eyes taking in Sam’s tattered clothing and the blood on Sam’s fingers – there were three long gashes across his front, raking down diagonally from left to right.  Dean immediately went into protective mode, easing Sam down onto his back, hovering over him and pushing the remains of his shirt aside.  The wounds weren’t that deep, but that certainly didn’t mean that Sam wasn’t bleeding – he was, and was also keeping his eyes screwed shut.  The dam had finally burst right as he’d let off both flares, their light brilliant enough to spike the pain high and bring him down.

            Dean moved to put Sam’s head in his lap and made a closer inspection of the wounds, managing to get Sam’s backpack off and find the first aid kit, setting the lighter down carefully a couple feet away and getting Sam’s shirt pushed back.  The buttons had been torn clean off, making it easy to open and tend to him.  Dean rubbed Sam’s head as he took an alcohol wipe and cleaned some of the excess blood off, Sam wincing gritting his teeth as it touched at the edges of the wounds.  Dean worked quickly, securing gauze patches over the injuries and then leaning down to kiss Sam’s forehead, Sam’s hand coming up to touch Dean’s where it was resting against his cheek.

            “You’re not gonna let three little old paper cuts slow you down, are you?” Dean chuckled, intensely aware of the fact that they still needed to look for the hikers and get Sam to a bed so that he could more properly care for him.

            Sam laughed, in spite of the way it made his body ache.  “Hell no – just help me up, I can walk.”  Dean gave him another kiss and got to his feet, reaching down and pulling Sam up from the ground.  Sam swayed a little upon getting upright but Dean steadied him, shouldering up the backpack and helping Sam support his weight, walking in the direction from which the wendigo had come.  The pain in Sam’s head had dialed down a few notches, thanks to Dean’s gentle hands taking care of the cuts across his front.

            They found the hikers, dehydrated and hungry but nonetheless still alive, cutting them down and guiding them out of the beast’s lair, their journey back to the Impala taking decidedly less time since they weren’t having to be on the lookout for a wendigo.  Sam kept up with them, fighting through the pain and not giving in until he was in the front seat of the Impala, reaching for the strong painkillers in the glove compartment, swallowing them down as Dean peeled away and brought the hikers back into town, thanking them profusely and wishing Sam well.

            It was but a five minute drive back to their motel, Dean finally shifting all of his attention to Sam and leading him to the bathroom once inside, stripping him of his clothes and crowding him into the shower.  The first thing he had to do was get Sam cleaned up, even if Sam protested at being hovered over.

“Dean I can do it just fine by-“  Dean shushed him with a kiss and started the water, pulling his own clothes off and giving himself a cursory glance in the mirror – save for a couple bruises on his back where he’d fallen when Sam knocked him down he was fine.  He peeled off the soiled bandages on Sam’s front and grabbed the soap, lathering up a washcloth and feeling Sam brace himself for the touch of it against his skin.  Dean kissed him as he passed the washcloth over Sam’s skin, pulling Sam a little closer when a whimper escaped Sam’s mouth.  Dean knew he hurt, wanted to make that hurt go away sooner rather than later.

He cleaned Sam up as quickly as he could, washing himself hurriedly before helping him dry off and guiding him back out to where the bed was.  Sam laid himself down while Dean tugged on his jeans and went outside to get more gauze and medicine from the Impala, appearing a moment later and coming over to the bed, sitting down next to Sam and slathering his cuts in antibiotic.

“One day we’re gonna have to take you to a hospital if you let monsters keep trying to touch this pretty body of your baby boy.”  Dean smiled down at him, fingers infinitely gentle as they tended to Sam’s injuries.

“Guess they can’t resist me, huh?” Sam’s voice was strained but Dean heard the humor in it, leaned down and kissed Sam, letting it linger before sitting back up and putting fresh bandaging over the gouges, the bleeding having stopped for the time being but still needing to be covered.  Sam was just going to have to sleep on his back for a few nights until they started to heal properly – Dean would hold him down if he had too.

“Me, them, no one can, Sam.  You’re a fucking hot piece of ass, and you know it.  Just mine though – they can look but they sure as hell can’t touch.” Dean smoothed Sam’s damp hair over his forehead and looked down at him, eyes conveying every ounce of care and concern he could muster.

“Think the last monster didn’t get the memo.”  The last two words came out under exertion, a fresh shock of hurt making his eyes close and his jaw grind.

“Want me to make that better Sammy?”  Dean laid down next to Sam and kissed his neck, making Sam shiver and heat course through his body simultaneously.

“Dean…”  Sam’s voice dropped an octave lower than normal, kind of gravely and rough, not from being in pain but from arousal – Dean had heard that pitch enough times now to know exactly what it meant, moving up to Sam’s ear and sliding one hand down to Sam’s cock, cupping and squeezing just enough to make Sam’s breath hitch slightly.

“Right here baby.”  Dean’s breath was a warm puff of air against Sam’s cheek, lips leaving a trail of electricity as he came to kiss the corner of Sam’s mouth, Sam turning his head and pulling Dean down into a kiss, Sam’s hand careful on the back of Dean’s neck.  Dean closed his eyes, his own body crackling with desire as he opened his mouth to Sam’s tongue.  Sam immediately started to feel better, the throbbing in his head backing off as Dean stroked his cock, tightening his grip every time he went upwards and loosening downwards, Sam’s foreskin getting wet with precome after just a moment of Dean’s stimulations.

“Feels awesome babe.” Sam relaxed a little more, resting his head against the pillow and looking up at Dean with eyes full of adoration.

“Think I know how to make it even better – be right back.”  Dean hopped off the bed, dropped his jeans and went over to his bag, getting out the fresh bottle of lube they’d picked up a couple days earlier, tearing off the plastic seal and tossing it aside as he came back to rest between Sam’s legs.

“Can you handle my fingers in you?” Dean posed the question seriously, not wanting to cause Sam any more discomfort than was necessary.

Sam nodded once. “Definitely.  Want your tongue first though, fucking miss it.”  Dean hadn’t eaten Sam out in a week now, and Dean had been pining for the taste of Sam’s body just as badly as Sam had been wanting for him to taste him.

“You got it Sammy.”  Dean came up to kiss Sam on the lips one more time before reaching for a pillow to put under Sam’s ass, raising his hips slightly and bending his knees, Sam’s breath slowing as Dean gently sucked his balls into his mouth, lavishing them with attention for a long moment before sliding down the mattress a little more, looking up at Sam as he gave Sam’s hole a tentative lick.

The long, shuddery breath that Sam let go was music to Dean’s ears, and Dean immediately decided he wanted to hear it again.  He traced a long, slow circle over the rim of Sam’s hole, Sam whining low in his throat as Dean dragged the motion out for as long as he could, finishing with a swipe across.  This was torture of the most exquisite kind, and Dean was a master at it. 

“You’re so fucking good at this Dean, _god._ ” Dean hummed his agreement into Sam’s body, hooking his forearms around Sam’s thighs and pulling him down a little more, Sam panting as Dean got down to business, lavishing Sam’s ass with attention, eating him out until he was sloppy wet, skin unfurling as he spelled out Sam’s full name three times, then his own, followed by the date and location of their first time, each letter and number making Sam moan loudly, his voice raising and lowering in pitch in accordance with how slow or fast Dean went.

By the time Dean sat back to wipe the spit off his chin and slick up his fingers Sam was a wreck, hair all stuck to his forehead and his body flushed scarlet between the bandages across his torso, looking at Dean with lust hazy eyes, his cock hard and leaking against his stomach.  Dean  mouthed “beautiful” at him as he laid down next to Sam and hitched one leg over his, sliding two fingers into Sam’s hole, swallowing the loud groan Sam let out with a kiss.  Sam licked his way into Dean’s mouth, his mind going fuzzy with warmth and desire as he tasted himself on Dean’s palette.  Dean gently rocked his fingers in and out, keeping his mouth sealed over Sam’s, his other arm around Sam’s shoulders, gathering him in close.

Sam reached down to jerk himself with his right hand and took Dean’s leaking cock in his left, stroking asynchronous to his own motions, his callused palm and fingers making Dean pant into his mouth.  Dean crooked the digits he had inside Sam, finding the hard knot of his prostate on the first contact.  Sam’s hands stopped moving, his mouth falling open as Dean massaged that spot deep inside of him, thick and experienced fingers making his whole body turn to mush.

“Just like that Sammy?”  Dean pulled out and added a third finger, Sam’s reply lost as he slid back in even slower than before.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”  Dean resumed kissing him, speeding up his fingers and getting another low whine in turn, knowing Sam was close due to the way his muscles were starting to clench around him, tight like they got on Dean’s cock.  Sam started to jack himself and Dean off a little faster, that bright light of orgasm visible just over the horizon, going after it with greater and greater speed.

Dean crooked his fingers hard, one, two, three more times before he felt a sharp intake of breath from Sam and then his whole body spasming as he came, his come thick and globby as he spilled over his hand and lower stomach, Dean coming right with him, emptying all over Sam’s leg and hip, both of them moaning into each other’s mouths as they fell over the edge.  Sam felt his headache lift completely as endorphins overloaded his system, bright lights of pleasure dancing behind his eyelids as he fell back, Dean coming down with him and trembling as Sam wrung the last few drops of come from his body.

Sam spoke first, long after their breathing had slowed down and evened out.  “Think that ought to keep them away for a while Dean.”

Dean didn’t bother to look up, instead choosing to stay with his head buried in Sam’s neck. “I should hope so.  Been a while since I got you off like that, yeah?”

Sam chuckled, a rich deep sound that made Dean’s skin turn to gooseflesh. “You’re welcome to do it again tomorrow, if you want to.”

Dean kissed Sam’s shoulder and thought about getting something to clean them up.  “You’re insatiable.”

“Entirely your fault and you know it.”

Dean huffed a short laugh. “I’ll take the fall for it, no matter how much it pains me.”

Sam just kissed Dean’s cheek and decided that not moving for a while was a very, very good idea.

.  .  .

Three more weeks passed and Sam’s head didn’t even begin to do so much as throb, save for the occasional object thrown at him on the hunt, and even then they all tended to miss his head.  Dean kept up his routine of tender touch and feeling just in case (not that it was a problem to begin with) and made sure that Sam was comfortable, mindful of the gashes across his front that had actually started to heal quite nicely.  The bandages came off after a week and a half, now just three long, pink scars that Sam hoped would eventually fade.  If they didn’t well… he had another injury that he would have to make up a story for, since most folks didn’t even know what a wendigo was (and Sam wasn’t about to sit down to try and explain it to them either.)

They were in a bar in Savannah, Georgia, the mid spring evening already hot and sticky outside, the temperature on the back veranda (screened in of course) not really any better, the only upside being the protection from the bugs and setting sun.  It was also the only bar near their motel and if they could avoid going to deep into the city then they were going to do precisely that.

Dean took another long pull of beer, tiling his head back, Sam nearly dropping his pool cue because the sight of Dean’s throat bobbing as he drank was mesmerizing.  It also showed off quite nicely the marks that Sam’s mouth had left there a couple nights before, bright purple bruises that he was very proud of, having left them as he rode Dean stupid, snake hips flexing and twisting on Dean’s cock until Dean had come so hard he went boneless.  Dean must have caught Sam staring, smiling as he set the beer bottle down and picking up the pool chalk.

“If you’re gonna jump me Sam at least wait until we’re in private.”  Jade eyes flashed up at Sam briefly as Dean bent down to line up his shot, sinking all three of his intended balls and then slowly straightening, stretching when he got upright purely to antagonize Sam.

Sam didn’t bat an eye as he walked around the pool table and pressed himself up against Dean’s back, one arm snaking around his front and securing him across his stomach.  “You know, that whole jumping you thing…” Sam sucked Dean’s right earlobe into his mouth, biting down on the tender flesh and reveling in the way Dean tried to rub himself against Sam’s crotch.

“You’ve got my attention Sammy.”  Dean whimpered as Sam’s hand snuck to his crotch and squeezed him through his jeans, Sam huge and solid behind him, radiating more heat than the whole of the Georgian spring.

“Want to take you back to the room.” A lick up the back of his ear, nearly making Dean drop the pool cue. “And lay you out on that nice, big bed.” A feather-light kiss to the nape of his neck as Sam came around to his other ear. “And make you come until you can’t anymore.” Sam sucked the shell of Dean’s left ear into his mouth, holding it there for a moment before pulling away, leaving Dean standing there by himself as his brain defogged from Sam and all of his considerable charms.

Dean’s gaze followed Sam back to the other side of the table, noticing a couple of the other bar patron’s looking in their direction, some with curiosity, some with disgust – they were in the South after all, and Dean suddenly felt very, very exposed.  Then again, all of that stopped mattering as soon as he caught site of Sam subtly rubbing himself and licking his lips in what had to be the most seductive way Dean had ever seen from him – a friendly game of pool and a cold beer be damned, he needed Sam’s dick in him yesterday.

“I’ll go settle up the tab.”  Dean tried to not look hasty as he went back out into the main part of the bar, coming back and finding Sam returning the pool balls to their triangular formation, cues already back on the shelf.  Dean grabbed Sam’s wrist and drug him out the back door, his cock already hard with just the thought of Sam touching him, heart racing and thudding in his ears because what Sam was very shortly going to be doing to him was likely something he was going to be feeling for a few days – and he was beyond fine with that.

The journey back to their motel didn’t take long at all, but a few blocks south, especially with Dean’s lust burning a hole in him that needed to be filled with Sam – literally and figuratively.  Dean would have laughed at his own joke had be not been trying to drag his Sasquatch of his brother along, even though Sam could move perfectly fine of his own accord. 

“Dean you can let go of me y’know, I’m not gonna let your pretty ass go unattended.”  Sam grunted as he nearly tripped over a loose slab of sidewalk, only to be pulled along that much harder.

“And you’re the one who decided to start shit in public, so you’re just gonna have to suck it up and deal with it.”  Dean breathed a sigh of relief as they finally walked into the parking lot of their lodgings, hand already in his pocket to search for the key to their room.

“The only thing I’m interested in sucking is your cock, but if you have a better idea I’m all ears.”  Sam’s hand went right down the front of Dean’s jeans as Dean paused to open the door, his fingers electric on Dean’s flesh and making him miss the keyhole completely.  Sam stroked him as best as he could from the awkward angle, licking the shell of Dean’s ear again and making Dean’s knees very wobbly in the process.

“Don’t… don’t have one Sam.” Dean finally managed to get the door open and the moment it swung on its hinges he was pushed inside, Sam slamming the door shut and immediately pushing Dean against it, not even getting a chance to breath as Sam went right for his mouth, all tongue and teeth, no pussyfooting about what it was he wanted.  Dean was convinced that part of him died the moment Sam’s hands went sliding under his shirt, rough palms awakening gooseflesh and sensation all along his ribs and hips, lifting Dean’s shirt with the motion.  Sam grabbed two handfuls of the gray cotton and pulled up, leaving Dean’s torso naked save for his golden-horned amulet.

“Fuckin’ beautiful.”  Sam dove for Dean’s neck, adding another mark to the constellation already dappling that tan expanse of skin, hands cradling Dean’s hips and then his thighs.  Dean simply groaned his response, mind otherwise occupied by the way Sam was lifting him and pressing him against the door, the worn grooves of oak digging into his back.  Dean tipped his head back and gripped Sam’s hair, Sam biting at his chest that much harder in response.  Dean’s breathing sped up, so much heat compressed and squeezed into the non-existent gap between them, warming his body to the point where it felt as though his blood was on fire.  It was overwhelming, Sam’s mouth and tongue and everything finding every pinpoint to cause Dean pleasure – and he’d moved no lower than his chest yet, concentrating on breaking him down as much as possible.

Either Sam got tired of holding Dean up or he wanted to move things along (Dean didn’t care either way, too busy thinking about what was coming next) but he soon found himself on the edge of the king-sized bed, already having been thoroughly broken in by them upon their arrival two days earlier.  Sam set him down and dropped to his knees, kissing Dean’s stomach and hips as his fingers opened up his jeans, making short work of his belt and getting the button and zipper undone in record time. Sam tugged them down, taking Dean’s boxer briefs with them, looking briefly discouraged when he got them down to Dean’s biker boots.  Not to be held up he simply tugged them off, Dean propped up on his elbows as he watched Sam toss them to either side, followed by casting off Dean’s jeans like they had done him some great offense.

“You know, I kinda want to see some skin too Sammy.”  Dean’s voice was already sounding fucked out and they really hadn’t even begun – did he really want Sam’s cock that badly? (Of course you do, Dean.)

“My pleasure.”  Sam stood and pulled his t-shirt off from behind, hair floofing out as it came over his head, toeing off his Pumas and shimmying out of his jeans, intending to get naked as soon as possible.  Dean’s eyes went as wide as saucers when he saw Sam’s cock, hard as a rock and swinging between his legs as Sam moved back towards the bed.  Sam was big to start with but it always seemed bigger whenever he was topping – Dean was convinced it was witchcraft of some sort.  Of course, he stopped caring whenever Sam was inside him, witchcraft the farthest thing from his mind.

“Satisfied?” Sam positioned himself so that he was looming over Dean, leaning in for a kiss.

“Mmph” was the only answer Dean gave, too busy focusing on how Sam’s hand was on his cock and stroking him slowly.

Sam pulled back and lavished attention to Dean’s body, going to his left nipple and sucking it into his mouth, a sharp cry letting him know that it felt good, gently sucking and then biting down on that hardened peak, working in conjunction with the fingers he had wrapped around Dean’s dick.

“Fuck, Sammy, _fuck._ ”  Dean gripped Sam’s hair, pushing him to his chest and if Sam didn’t stop right now then he was going to come and this would be over real fast.

Sam didn’t miss a beat, laughing against Dean’s pectoral. “Soon enough baby, soon enough.”  Sam bit down on him one more time, _hard_ , and Dean came, spilling all over Sam’s hand and fingers, toes curling every time Sam’s rough skin passed over the head, making Dean loose his balance and fall back against the bed.

“I hope you’re not giving up that easy.”  Sam got on his hands and knees and looked down at Dean, grinning like the Cheshire cat, rubbing his nose against Dean’s and kissing his chin.

“Fuck you.”  Dean was trying to recollect himself, not listen to his brother taunt him.  “It’s your fault anyway.”

“Mmm hmm.  But I’m not finished with you yet.  Not even close Dean.”  Sam rolled off of him, repositioning himself between Dean’s legs, looking at the mess of come on Dean’s stomach and cock, contemplating what he was going to do with it.

“It’s come Sam, in case you were wondering.”  Sam shot Dean a look that was probably bitchface #56 but Dean wasn’t terribly concerned with delving into that information, not when Sam leaned down and took the head of his still mostly hard cock in his mouth, sucking the last few errant drops of come out of him and hollowing his cheeks, Dean swearing loudly because it kind of hurt from oversensitivity but also felt really fucking good.  Sam settled down a little more, one hand gripping the base and the other scooping up the come currently residing on Dean’s stomach and using it as lube as he smeared it in and around Dean’s hole, Dean squirming because it felt kind of gross, only for that feeling to be chased away a moment later as Sam started to open him up little by little.  Dean hoped that that meant Sam was going to fuck him soon.

As it turned out, he was wrong.

Sam opened his mouth a little wider and took all of Dean’s girthy cock into his mouth the moment he crooked two fingers against Dean’s prostate, the simultaneous feelings making Dean’s back arch up off the bed, nearly making Sam gag as he bucked his hips forward.  Sam pulled off with a cough, wiping his mouth and then doing it again, closing his eyes as his lips stretched wide around his brother’s dick.  Dean chewed on his bottom lip to try and stifle back some of the moans threatening to come out, not succeeding in the least when Sam pulled back up to the head and squeezed the bottom half of his shaft.  Sam sucked hard, tasting the tang of Dean’s salty precome after a few more minutes, smiling when he felt Dean’s fingers finally slide into his hair.  It meant Dean was close, and Sam considered that to be a good thing, given that Dean has just come not ten minutes previously.

“Sammy I-“ Dean writhed as he shot in Sam’s mouth, mouth open in a silent scream as his body spent itself for the second time that night, looking down at Sam and watching as Sam let him go and kept his mouth closed.  Dean started forward for a kiss, only for Sam to put a hand on his chest and push him back down to the bed.  Sam gestured for Dean to scoot up and hand him a pillow, Dean complying slowly, the haze of orgasm still pervading his senses. 

Dean wasn’t sure what Sam’s next intentions were, only to receive his answer a moment later as Sam put the pillow under his hips and pushed his legs back.  Dean got the message and hooked his hands on the backs of his knees, feeling incredibly debauched as Sam opened his mouth and laved his own come over his hole, wet and warm from being contained in Sam’s cheeks for so long.  Dean wasn’t sure where this particular idea came from, and he wasn’t going to complain.

“You shaved for me?”  Sam’s voice caught Dean by surprise, given that he hadn’t said much over the process of taking Dean apart like this.

Dean took a moment to respond, too caught up in how Sam’s tongue was pushing his come into his stretched hole.  “You were gonna fuck me tonight if I had to hold you down and ride you so I figured why the hell not.”

“Maybe next time.”  Sam shut his eyes and tugged downwards on Dean’s hips, using the broad part of his tongue lick over the pretty pink pucker, taking his time with it as he reached his right arm around Dean’s leg and grabbed his cock.

At this point Dean couldn’t do anything more than let Sam do as he pleased, something Dean was very okay with, his breath shaky as Sam stroked him back to full hardness, feeling Sam’s stubble scrape against his skin as his mouth and hand synced up, each swipe of Sam’s tongue across Dean’s hole accompanied by a stroke and twist upwards of his hand, Dean’s arms shaking as he held himself open.  It had been nearly too much before, and now it most certainly was, an overload of sensation that made kaleidoscopic galaxies form and explode behind his eyelids.  Dean was strung out on pleasure, and Sam kept right on giving, eating him out with what could only be called considerable skill, reading Dean’s body like a book and using every trick he had when it came to rimming his brother to get him to another orgasm.

This time when Dean came it was almost entirely dry, a few pathetic drops on Sam’s finger but the sensation was far more intense than before, his body caving in on itself, or so it felt, Dean’s eyes brimming with tears as he dropped his legs and lay there shaking, Sam coming up to kiss him on the lips and caress his face, stilling Dean with the same tender touch that had been accorded to him so much over the past weeks.

“How… how have you not come yet?”  Dean curled into Sam’s body, boneless and warm and fighting to stay conscious.

“Stamina.  And I wanted to wait until I was inside you babe.  Think you got one more in you?”  Sam laid a trail of gentle kisses down Dean’s neck, petting and stroking his hair.

Dean made a noise that sounded an awfully like that of a contented puppy, Sam’s hands lulling him awfully close to sleep.  “Just go easy on me Sam, alright?”

Sam gave his assent with a kiss, reaching for the lube under his pillow and wetting his cock generously, pouring even more onto his hand as he got Dean slicked up as well, Dean making little whimpering noises as Sam pushed the cool substance into him, going willingly when Sam pulled him into his lap, angling his cock so that Dean sank right down on it, his arms going around Sam’s neck as he was filled.

Sam put one arm around Dean’s back and held him close, his other hand on the back of Dean’s head as he started to thrust upwards, the angle just right so that he found Dean’s prostate immediately, Dean’s mouth on his as Sam drank every moan he had from his lips.  It was sweet, careful lovemaking, Dean shuddering every time Sam’s hips surged up – this was Dean’s favorite position, being enveloped and filled like this, able to feel Sam’s body around him and in him – it was safe here, perfect, just the two of them wrapped up in each other physically as much as figuratively. The fit was just right, their hearts beating in sync as Sam felt the first pull of climax low in his gut, Dean’s hard for the fourth time cock rubbing against his abs, Dean so far gone on desire that he was simply hanging on for the ride, groaning every time Sam’s thick cock penetrated his body. 

“Dean, god Dean, baby I’m gonna-“  Dean kissed Sam hard right then, his brother’s hips pressing up into him, coming so hard that it made his vision go white, feeling Dean clench around him as he came untouched, completely dry as Sam screamed into Dean’s mouth, both of them holding onto each other tightly because it was so overwhelmingly and completely _perfect._

Sam didn’t dare move for a long moment, simply clutching Dean in his arms and resting his head against his shoulder, Dean’s hand soothing him via lazy trails up and down his spine, both of them breathing hard and trying to come back down to earth.  Dean shifted, Sam’s softening cock slipping out along with what Dean was sure was an insane amount of come, feeling it trickle down the back of his thigh and making him squirm, Sam huffing a laugh into his shoulder and laying them down on the bed, Dean gathered to his chest and his nose buried in the thoroughly mussed spikes of blonde hair on his head.

“That’s my way of saying thank you, by the way.”  The words came out slurred and sleepy, a dopey smile across Sam’s face.  Dean could feel it, and he grinned too.

“Nothing to thank me for Sammy, just taking care of you.”  Dean kind of wanted to get up and go clean himself out but the idea of not ever moving out of Sam’s embrace was one too good to not give serious consideration.

“I know it’s hard sometimes so….”

“No it’s not baby boy, I swear.  Especially this kind of caretaking.  I like this.”  Dean reached up and threaded his fingers with Sam’s over his heart.

Sam nuzzled the back of Dean’s neck, making Dean hum contentedly.  “I believe you.”

“Don’t ever doubt it Sam.  I’m here for you one hundred percent.”

Sam didn’t think he could ever hold disbelief in those words even if he tried.


End file.
